April 28, 2010

Hey y'all! Let's all take a timeout and celebrate some mushy stuff. 1) You! I want to say a big THANK YOU! for following this here blog thingy and coming back every day to talk about absolutely nothing while eating some food. It's been almost two years now yet, in the words of Bryan Adams, "It still feels like our first time together..." (errrrr). Well, anyway— Mwah! That's for you.

So, in celebration, I'm giving away this cutesy-putesy mini heart springform pan. You can make your own mama some cheesecake, a tart, quiche maybe? Or a decadent chocolate cake for your lovah next V-Day? Nothing says I love you like a heart-shaped quiche...you know it.

And to boot, I've got a surplus of chocolate I want to get rid of. Some all-natural dark chocolate with sea salt, dark chocolate with chili & lime, and milk chocolate with honey & green tea. You wouldn't think such ingredients would work together but man, you'd be wrong.

April 26, 2010

Do you have a morning routine? One that is so detailed and necessary, that were you to diverge from it, your day would spiral into a frazzled, harebrained, did-i-even-remember-to-put-on-pants Bridget Jones episode? I have major routines and ceremonies that I neurotically follow throughout the day, akin to the life of Sally Albright. My mornings go something like this:

Wake up at 7am, change and nurse the baby, make a pot of coffee and throw a piece of wheat bread in the toaster. Find the unhealthy peanut butter in the cabinet and pull out the old-fashioned oats. Once the coffee beeps (but usually even before then), gulp a cup while standing at the counter, then refill. Drink another cup with peanut butter toast in the other hand, while I microwave a big bowl of oatmeal. Slice fresh strawberries and bananas over the oatmeal while still hot, and bring to the living room with my coffee. I then turn on the news and open my laptop to catch up on happenings in the world and the blogosphere. After this leisurely wake-up, I see Lovah out the door and hit the showers...

April 20, 2010

I've waited, I've been patient, but now, after almost 3 1/2 months since giving birth, I want my body back. People, not only do I have a 12K race in August and two weddings to attend in October, bikini season is around the corner. And aside from the pancake-butt and bat wing-arms I need to address, I've decided my mental and emotional states need boosting too. All work (read: baby) and no play (read: my previous life) make Anja a dull girl.

Here's how I plan to execute this much-needed mommy makeover:

1) Get in shape. Hide the New York Super Fudge Chunk, hand me my dumbbells, let's do this. I've been going to some post-natal aerobics classes (see photo above for a spot-on representation) but it's time for the big-wheel stroller to meet the bike path.

2) Eat better. Rice pudding and ice cream don't count as food groups. And bread, oh god, the bread. Get it away from me! (I say this now until morning comes and my peanut butter toast is not next to my coffee.)

3) Book a massage. I've never had a massage in my life and think it's about darn time. Extra oil, please.

April 08, 2010

You gotta hand it to that goofy bastard, he knows how to serve up some classic British cuisine. I can hardly stand to watch him talk (I googled the SNL spoof of him to no avail but trust me on this) but his steak and guinness recipe and new Food Revolution show together take him up a notch in my book. Plus, he has three daughters named Poppy, Daisy, and Petal. That's about the cutest thing I've ever heard.

He's the talk show foodie equivalent of Rachael Ray and, I'm sorry, you're all going to hate me, but she just kiiiiillllls me too. I'll look up her recipes but don't make me watch her show. She makes me squirm.

I realize, though, that in the past few days I've heard myself telling people how much I like Simon Cowell and Anna Wintour. So maybe I'm just mean. Cuz I seem to like meanies.

Back to steak pie! This recipe was amaaazeballs. So warm and cozy with peas and red wine on a brisk night in front of the tele. And the puff pastry! On top and bottom! Just divoooon.

The whole dish was a last minute throw-together after I emailed Lovah about dinner plans. "Crockpot?" "How about steak pie?" "Steak whaa?" He must be homesick. If he requests steak pie it means we'll also be watching Fawlty Towers and having a cheese-and-biscuits supper.

I always thought supper was another word for dinner, but no, it's a post-dinner dinner. Those Brits think of everything.

March 30, 2010

Somebody open the vino, pull out the chocolate reserves, and put all cameras away...Saskatch has been sighted. I am so excited to finally introduce you to one of my favorite gals on the planet. Ignore the fact that we're related (mother's sister married father's brother, so carry the one, subtract the incest, and voila! Double cousins!), this girl is hilarity in its purest form. Polite and professional magazine editor by day, Bridget Jones-disaster-waiting-to-happen by...err...the rest of the time, her reality never sees a dull moment. See here and here for proof. And if you get caught halfway through a sentence and don't know what she's talking about, it's probably a movie reference. We both tend to do this, and while some might call it a freakish tic, we call it an art form. I know, right? We are so MFEO.

Okay, first off, what inspired the start of your blog, Saskatch?

Some people call me Katch (much to my mother's chagrin). One fateful day at a Christmas tree farm, I was skulking through Douglas Firs and the name was born.

Your stories of travel get me almost as much as your Bridget Jones gaffes...what has been your favorite travel destination?

Kenya was an absolutely life-changing experience. Although, by the end of the trip, my guide, Tonie, was well versed in my lack of peripheral vision and knack for getting into sticky situations. One day, Tonie, two horseback riding guides (who spoke zero English), and I went for a safari on horseback at the foot of Mount Kenya. I was a little uneasy as they pointed out elephant dung (hello? Did you hear about that woman who was trampled by a rogue elephant at that very spot?! Of course, our guides would speak in Swahili and Tonie would translate, but for all I knew they were saying, "We are in grave danger of being eaten by lions or stampeded by elephants. No matter, onward!"). We encountered a water buffalo (funny looking animals with horns that resemble a '50s flip-do)...another stampede-happy animal that could easily kill you with its coifed horns. As I grabbed my camera to snap a shot of the buffalo, my horse shifted and my sunglasses fell off my face—I jerked forward to grab them and nearly fell off the horse. Tonie later told me he's never lost a tourist to an animal attack, but he was sure I was about to be the first—offed in the name of designer eyewear. That said, I also LOVED Las Ventanas in Mexico. My boyfriend and I were spoiled beyond belief—it took weeks to get over saying farewell to our personal butler. Or was that a tequila-induced dream?

And funniest (well, funny NOW) faux-pas?

Oh dear. Just yesterday, I had planned to go on a bike ride, but at the last minute decided to run instead. After jogging awhile, I realized I hadn't changed out of my biking pants—you know, the kind with a padded bum. As I was running and realizing that I looked silly, my foot caught on a tree trunk and I FLEW. I ripped my bubble-butt pants, gashed my knee, but popped up like nothing happened and hobbled the rest of the way home. One of my most memorable Bridget moments (or least memorable, depending on how you look at it)...As a co-ed at UC Santa Barbara (nearly a DECADE ago, god help me), I was the neighborhood margarita maker—I'd squeeze limes and blend made-to-order drinks until my fingers pruned and I tossed bottles around ala Tom Cruise in Cocktail. One time, my roommates and I threw a huge jungle-boogie bash, and I got to work mixing drinks early. I wanted our jungle juice to be extra tasty, so I sipped and sipped until I got it right. I awoke the next morning to find that I was still dressed as Jane of the jungle—my body paint untouched and the twigs in my hair coifed to a tee—with no memory of the party. Had I blacked out? Drank too much? My roommates informed me that I was sawing logs in bed before the first guests arrived. I hear it was our best party ever.

What's in your purse?

Funny you should ask. My boyfriend recently stumped me with the same question (although his was more like, "What the hell do you keep in there?"), so I dug around to see what I lug around all day. Currently: a Moleskin calendar book (with lists of my wishes and dreams—one cheese pizza just for me!), Caudelie Beauty Elixir, a broken wallet (it's cute so I just hold it shut when I use it), minty fresh CO Bigelow lip gloss, a red cell phone (verizon salespeople are persuasive), and my favorite jewelry pieces (I like to change earrings according to my mood).

I think I know the answer to this but...name your drug: cheese or chocolate? Caffeine or alcohol?

All of the above? I've grown to love cheese, but only if it's not too stinky-feet-esque. Chocolate and I have carried on a committed relationship for years—fraught with challenges and occasional heartbreak, of course. I don't think I could leave chocolate forever, but my mood after a binge is not pretty. So, that leaves me with caffeine and alcohol. Since it would be inappropriate to go on a "wine run" while at work, I suppose I am most devoted to coffee. But mama loves herself a nice tumbler of cabernet. Why must I choose? WHY?

You're all about the cozy but also the sun...what season do you look forward to most?

Definitely autumn—crunchy fallen leaves, Felicity sweaters, Halloween, and the anticipation of Christmas...almost too much to handle! Although, I happen to be writing this on a gorgeous 80-degree Santa Barbara spring day, so I must add that summer is a close second. The smell of jasmine in the air, barbecues, blackberry pie, farmers market, long beach days, and warm ocean water...

March 23, 2010

The other day, Lovah (herein begins his new name) and I were enjoying a sandwich and salad, respectively, when I opened a wrapped square of carrot cake we were to share for dessert. Not two bites in did I notice a glare from across the picnic table. "What?" I asked, thinking I had baby vomit in my hair or spinach in my teeth. "Halfsies!" he yelled. Whoa, someone had declared carrot cake war.

The next day we met a friend for coffee, and when we saw the giant pale layer cake coated with toasted walnuts behind the counter glass, we ordered two slices.

Now it's a running joke—in addition to the one where I boast being a great sharer when countless times I've stabbed hands reaching for my plate—where one of us screws up our nose and sing-songs, "Half-siiieeeess!" in the other person's face. Adults, we are.

My grievance is not about the quantity, though, when it comes to sharing food. It's about quality.

With the aforementioned cake, for example, I like to take my time, starting from top to bottom, making sure to get equal parts icing and cake. Maybe pausing for a sip of coffee between bites. (I've been told I'm a ceremonial eater. Compliment? I'll take it.) When another spoon swoops in and steals too much of either part, throwing off the balance and sending my neat tower toppling over, I turn into a screaming toddler in a sandbox whose toy has just been taken. Oh no you di-aannnt.

To avoid such catastrophic events, I recommend either cutting the thing in half beforehand...

March 22, 2010

"People disappear when they die. Their voice, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living memory of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some their is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continue to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic."

I'm only a few chapters in and already enchanted by Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale. Readers and writers will be smitten with this love letter to story—I highly recommend to all my fellow English majors out there!

March 01, 2010

Congrats to my bestie, Ryan, for his 2010 Bloggies win!!!! But You're Like Really Pretty took home the award for Best-Kept Secret. Insaaaane! Now let's all celebrate like the Canadian women's hockey team!